Saturday, April 7, will mark 21 years since my life was transformed. Before that I was just a normal young woman focusing on her life and career. I was about 43 pounds heavier right before that date – trudging through hospital halls, training sales reps and convincing my accounts to put my drug on formulary. Of course I had an edge – I was hugely pregnant, and I had been on and off of bed rest because I refused to stop walking those hospital halls with a heavy bag filled with clinical studies in hand. I was driven, and I knew I had the advantage that I had to leverage---who can resist a big ol pregnant lady? I remember my doctor lecturing me and telling me if I didn’t stop working altogether, I was going to have a baby with lungs that won’t work and my baby's life would be at great risk. (It’s a bit ironic that my husband’s company now makes a ground breaking lung surfactant to save those premies’ lives). My doctor was angry with me, so I told my company that I had to follow orders and go on bed rest till the birth. I didn’t get the true impact of what I had been risking until that little baby, who miraculously came only one day before her due date, was born. My sweet little Christine Michele. When she was born everything changed. My big body couldn’t contain my even bigger heart, and I could swear birds started singing and the world took on a different hue the minute they laid her on my chest. Sound familiar moms??
There is nothing like becoming a mom for the first time, for the second time, and I’m sure for the third, fourth and fifth – although thank goodness I don’t know about that! There is no stronger selfless love, and suddenly everything comes into perspective. I was lucky. My deliveries literally lasted a couple of hours, and once my babies decided to come out – a few pushes, and I was done. So easy. Shockingly easy. There is something to be said for wide set pelvic bones!!!
The very moment the nurse placed my beautiful little bald baby in my arms, I was a goner. I realized for the first time what it was like to love someone so much that you would happily die the most painful death for her. My baby was my lifeline. Nothing else mattered – maybe to the detriment of my marriage, in hindsight. My sweet Christine who literally rolled in my belly throughout my pregnancy – reminding me I had a constant wingman. My Christine who easily came into this world after only three pushes. My Christine who slept through the night at four weeks and woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed -- up for anything her mom and dad wanted to do. My Christine who my mom joked would never learn to walk because I wouldn’t put her down long enough. I was the mom who let her babies fall asleep on her chest every night… I always marveled at how some moms could just let their baby cry itself to sleep. Although I intellectually knew it was the right thing to do, my heart wouldn’t let me do it. (nor could I crate train my dogs, by the way) My Christine - who became my best little buddy. She has her dad’s goofy humor, which is one of the things I remember fondly about my ex. She can make me laugh like no one else – a giddy kind of laughter… An absolutely joyful, eyes watering, bent over kind of laughter. And she was my very best friend when I got divorced when she was just two and we moved to Cincinnati where I was a District Manager for a biotech company managing a district full of good old boys across four states and wondering how on earth I was going to juggle it on my own. But she was there – smiling and laughing and singing – and so I smiled and laughed and sang ---and that made all the difference in how I approached the world… I took her with me often when I had to travel, since I thankfully worked for a company who had a formal focus on supporting “Work and Family”, and everyone helped me find someone to watch Christine –because everyone wanted to watch Christine. I would take her to business dinners with me, and she had impeccable table manners and would either sit there politely or converse like an adult. I remember the Washington DC district manager tucked his thumb between his fingers and tried to convince Christine it was a piece of candy. My two year old looked at him with a twinkle in her eye and said, “ You know I know that’s not candy.” And I thought this very serious man from India was going to keel over from laughter! I would take her on flights with me where I was routinely upgraded because I traveled so frequently, and the businessmen would give me dirty “I can’t believe I have to sit next to a woman and a toddler” looks when they boarded, and then fall over themselves complimenting my charming little girl as we departed – shocked at how mature and well behaved she was. She was amazing. We had wonderful little adventures wherever we went. I remember what should probably have been the most difficult period in my life as one of the happiest – and I owe that to my Christine. An incredible bond was formed then. One that my youngest has a tendency to be a little jealous of ---which is silly because she and I have built our own special bond and have hundreds of memories only we have shared – because we too are a team.
So now my Christine will be turning 21, and I find myself getting weepy every time I think about it. I don’t know why this birthday means so much to me. I handled all of the other milestones just fine. I didn’t cry when the kids went off to kindergarten or preschool, and although I was emotional when she went off to college I wasn't a mess. It’s not hormones – I went through menopause over three years ago with hardly a hot flash – knock on wood! There’s just something about this birthday that gets me. It’s a biggy.
I remember my own 21st birthday like it was yesterday. It’s really the only birthday I remember absolutely vividly. My boyfriend Steve, who I dated for most of college saved his money and surprised me by taking me to Berns Steakhouse in Tampa – a very big deal at the time. We were so excited. Steve passed away three years ago – so now there's some sadness intertwined with my memory - -so maybe that’s part of it. I don’t know.
Or maybe it’s because 21 represents true adulthood - a coming into your own. Christine will be a senior at Elon University next year and then will hopefully find a job in corporate communications somewhere. The odds of it being near me are slim, and I feel torn. A little bit of feeling like I have to let go, but knowing my heart will break when I do. I have never been an overbearing mom. I’ve always let my kids have space and have respected their ability to make choices on their own while only providing “guidance”. Maybe that’s why they never really wanted a ton of space and to date have mostly made the right choices – because they personally owned those choices, and there is a lot more at stake in ownership. But on this one – I feel like I want to butt in – to tell her what career to choose, to persuade her not to move too far away ----but I know I can’t. I have to let her follow her own path, knowing that that’s the only way it will be right – the only way she will be passionate about what she chooses. So maybe that’s it…
So as I come closer to her 21st birthday, feeling the tears well in my eyes when I think about it and have a strange feeling that I might just burst into tears, I will force myself to keep it together. When we have her dinner on Saturday night with all of her girlfriends I will burst with pride for her, and I will remember every single minute of her life. It will all come rushing at me – just like it has been these last few weeks. Her first sentences (because she began talking in full sentences not just words), her first friends – because her friends have always been so important to her, and so of course have been important to me. The first smile she gave me, long before babies are “supposed” to smile, and everyone insisted it was gas – but no – I knew it was her smile – and it is identical to her current show-stopping smile. All of her firsts will rush to my mind, and instead of crying, I will smile – because that’s what Christine does to you--she makes your whole world brighter. What a gift that is – what a gift she has been to my life. So every time I look down at the stretch marks on my belly – I remember that hugely pregnant 28 year old woman who only cared about simple things, and I thank God that I have those “mommy marks” to remind me of how blessed I am to have not one, but two amazing daughters. – How blessed all of us mothers and fathers are.
I love you more than life my sweet Christine!
